


find some relief (in me)

by princessrorora



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Comfort, F/M, garcy, one of these days i'll stop writing angst lol, post chinatown, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-27 13:31:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15686403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessrorora/pseuds/princessrorora
Summary: prompt: garcy + "I thought things were going well."





	find some relief (in me)

It’d been two hours since the future versions of Lucy and Wyatt disappeared back into their own timeline. Four hours since they appeared in the first place with information vital to saving Rufus. Four hours since Garcia Flynn had come across present Lucy and Wyatt in the hall, the tail end of Wyatt’s confession ringing in his ears just as the future Lifeboat had appeared. 

It’d been a whirlwind of a day, or rather, two days. Two days since they’d lost Rufus. Two days since Emma and Jessica blew everything out of control. Two days since they took out Lucy’s mother and great grandfather. Two days since the world turned inside out on them. 

And yet, the bunker was still, and silent. 

He’d fully expected everything to go into a flurry after the future versions of Lucy and Wyatt left. But instead there had been this strange stillness, a curious sensation that had passed over each and every one of them. They were going to get Rufus back. It would take work, even twist the laws of everything they believed thus far, but they were going to change everything. They were going to fix this. And they were going to come out of it on the other side with Rufus back.

It was as if this knowledge alone had eased everyone into a sense of calm. Everyone separated themselves, needing time to grapple with the idea of traveling to their own timelines and accepting the idea of getting Rufus back despite still being raw over him being gone in the first place. 

Garcia wanted to sleep. He _needed_ to sleep. But the sound of gunfire and the image of Rufus crumpling to the dirty ground wouldn’t leave the forefront of his mind's eye. The fact that Emma’s bullet had merely grazed him and yet another of hers had taken down a fellow team member was hard to grasp. He’d lost fellow comrades in war. _His life_ had been nothing but a constant war, after all. But _Rufus_. Rufus didn’t deserve that. Rufus didn’t deserve _any_ of it. 

And _Lucy_. The image of her curled on the floor of that dirty alley, the terror that had filled him when he’d come upon her, how he’d thought for one terrifying millisecond that she might have become another one of Emma's victims, _another_ person he loved that was lost to him. But then her tears were burning against his cheek like a brand as he held her close to him, her heaving, agonized cries and the broken sound of his name on her tongue. 

And then the image of her and Wyatt, and then her and Wyatt from the future, it just…

It _hurt_. It all hurt too damn much.

Future Lucy and Wyatt seemed more like teammates than they did a couple. But as hardened as they were, given the future they’d come from, that didn’t necessarily mean anything. And where did that leave _him_? Jiya’s future self had climbed down after them too, but his future self was missing. Had he been lost in time like Rufus as well? 

Or worse?

Garcia didn’t necessarily want to know. And they hadn’t thought that information important enough to tell him. 

But future Lucy had stared at him for a long, lingering moment, with something in her matured dark gaze that sent a shiver up his spine. 

And it was that look and the flood of memories from the past few days that kept him from resting. 

With a groan, Garcia sat up and clambered awkwardly out of bed. His room felt hollow and yet oddly stifling. He'd tried to ignore it, tried to ignore the emptiness he felt without the presence of a certain historian, tried to ignore the sensation of the walls closing in on him. But it hadn't worked. If anything, it only added to the pile of things that were keeping him from sleep. His shoulder throbbed with pain as he adjusted his arm, and he was probably due for another round of pain killers probably along with a dressing change, but he effectively ignored everything and slipped out of his room. 

He needed tea. Perhaps even a movie. Just. Any sort of distraction would be welcomed at this point.

Garcia gritted his teeth against the pain as he adjusted the sling over his shoulder. The lights were turned down low in the empty bunker halls, but somehow they still seemed blinding. Upon reaching the kitchen, he pulled down the box of teabags, lip curling in disgust at the limited selection before deciding on the least unappealing flavor. He set the water to boil and then turned to lean against one of the tables. 

But a figure sitting at the top of the stairs leading up to the Lifeboat caught his attention. His heart stilled within his chest for a moment at the sight of her, looking so small in yet another one of his sweaters. 

Carefully, as though approaching a wounded animal, Garcia carefully walked towards her. This time, unlike a mere four hours ago when she was sitting beside Wyatt in the hall, she _did_ notice his approach. Glassy dark eyes turned toward him, and a wane smile formed on her lips as she hugged her knees to her chest. 

The silence rang out between them. For once, she was the one looking down upon him, instead of her gaze lifting to meet his. Absently, he thought she looked like a queen upon her throne, staring down at her loyal knight. Which was, well, rather fitting for them. 

Garcia said nothing, unsure of what he even really _could_ say. Not much had been exchanged between them ever since Chinatown. Truthfully, it wasn’t just the flurry of events that had passed since then, but more the fear of what would come out between them if they were given the chance. 

_Why are you here?_ She’d asked, and he’d just stared dumbly at her until Wyatt had interrupted. But she _had_ to know, right? Her face had shifted into quiet shock just before the door opened. She’d looked at him like the realization had come to her, like she was just as at a loss for words as he was. 

And then…finding her in the alley, broken and bleeding and devastated…

He licked his lips absentmindedly, glancing behind her at the Lifeboat. “Our junky old Lifeboat almost looks new in comparison to theirs, eh?” 

Her lips twitched like she wanted to laugh, but she held it back and nodded once. Lucy curled her chin against the nest her arms were currently making around her folded legs. Her face looked like it hurt like hell, the bruises from Emma’s beating two days ago having turned varying shades of purple and blue against the porcelain of her face. It hurt to look at her, but he couldn't do anything _but_ look at her. He kept his gaze lifted toward her in reverence, much like it had unconsciously been when her future self had appeared. 

But that hadn’t been _his_ future Lucy. Which was another thing that unsettled him. The woman who had appeared at Wyatt’s side four hours ago was not the Lucy he had known from that bar in Sao Paulo 

The kettle whistled sharply, and Garcia sighed, reluctantly turning away from her to turn it off before it awoke the entire bunker. Without bothering to ask if she wanted any, he began to prepare a second mug, selecting an apple cinnamon flavored tea that he knew Lucy loved. Awkwardly, given his right arm in a sling across his chest, he carried the two mugs over to her. 

He stepped up onto the bottom step, and she took the mug in his outstretched hand, her eyes filled with worry at the sight of him attempting to balance both cups. She gave him a half smile in thanks, which he returned thinly before turning to leave her be. As much as it pained him to part from her and go back to his empty, stifling bedroom alone, the last thing he wanted to do was bother her with his presence at such a time when she probably wanted to be left alone.

“Flynn?” She murmured, her voice soft and low and yet almost commanding. He paused and turned around cautiously. A tremor passed over him from the melted look of unspoken, quiet yearning in her eyes. _Stay with me_ , they seemed to say.

Garcia nodded and carefully maneuvered himself on the step below her, legs dangling over the side of the stairs, toes brushing the cold ground below them. Lucy shifted above him, her head leaning back to rest against the rail. They sat quietly and sipped at their tea, the air around them growing calmer the longer they were in each other’s presence. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her looking up at the Lifeboat, a wistful expression on her broken face. 

“Do you think we can really do it, Flynn?” She asked quietly. “I mean, did…did the journal ever say anything about _this_?” 

“Not anything about Rufus dying, no.” He said as softly as he could, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. “You handing me the journal told me enough about our future with traveling within our own timelines, that it was even possible and all that. But all of this…” He shook his head and set his mug down. “When yours and Jiya and Wyatt’s future selves appeared…I knew _that_ would happen, Lucy, that you would travel within your own timeline again at some point. I don’t know what reason you had for it before, but Rufus’ death wasn’t it.” 

“So…something changed when Rufus was shot.” She whispered, the words sounding too heavy for her to say aloud. He looked up at her. “That’s all?” 

“That’s all.” Garcia licked his lips again, wondering if she could hear how loudly and heavily his heart was pounding against his ribs. “Like I said, Lucy, we’ll just have to wait and see about the rest.” 

Lucy chewed on her lower lip, her eyes moving toward the mug in her hands. The look on her face was almost like she regretted even asking, much like the day he’d told her about her giving him the journal. Garcia winced at the sight of the pain and conflict etching it’s way across her face. He slowly pulled a hand away from his mug to brush his fingertips against her wrist. 

“I still believe we will save the people we love, Lucy.” He murmured in what he hoped to be was a reassuring tone of voice. 

Lucy looked down at his hand that still rested on her wrist, and he winced, immediately moving to release her, fearful he'd overstepped. Before he could, she caught his hand quickly and laced her fingers through his own without hesitation. He blinked, mouth falling agape at the soft sensation of her fingertips brushing against his own. 

“Me too.” Her chin trembled slightly. “I just…I _hate_ that we even got to this place. Trusting Jessica, losing Jiya, getting Jiya back only to then lose Rufus.” She blinked, keeping her gaze on their linked hands. “Before all of this, I thought…I thought things were going so well.” She snorted, a dry humorless laugh escaping her. "Despite everything."

Garcia nodded. “Things _were_ going well.” He agreed, giving her fingers a gentle squeeze. 

Lucy took a slow sip of her tea. “I was…I was finally accepting that Wyatt had gotten Jessica back. I was finally accepting that whatever it was between us was done, that a miracle had happened for him. And I was trying to be happy for him. For all of us, really. I was beginning to think a miracle might happen for me too.” The corner of her lips quirked up into a sad, pitiful smile. “But now? I don’t know if that's possible anymore.” Her voice sounded thick and watery, but he held himself steady, understanding that right now she needed him to be the calm in the storm. “It just…feels like I’m… _drowning_ , Flynn. Losing my sister, finding out my father was never actually my father and that my actual father was a psycho and then getting my mother back only for her to be part of the very thing I’m fighting against, then having Wyatt then not having Wyatt and now he’s got me feeling like…like I’m in a damn game of ping pong I can’t escape from.” She heaved in a deep breath as her babbling ceased, her fingers tightening around his. “And then _Rufus_.” Her voice crackled over the name of their fallen friend.

Flynn dragged his thumb against the back of her hand gently.He _ached_ for her. Lucy had suffered so much since this whole thing started, and some of it was his fault but most of it was damn _Rittenhouse_. He wanted nothing more than to burn it down, now more than ever. He yearned to say something that would magically fix everything, to gather her into his arms and mend her heart in an instant. But there was nothing he could say or do to make any of it better. 

All he could do was be there for her and show her that she wasn’t alone. 

“How much more can I lose?” Lucy sniffled and hiccuped, her expression turning sheepish as she seemed to come to the realization of all that she had let slip out. He watched in bemusement as she used the edge of the borrowed sweater she wore to dab at her eyes. Her pained face twinged pink as she sniffled and calmed, and he nearly changed the subject and asked if she’d raided his clean clothes pile when he wasn’t looking. 

Instead, he brought her hand to his lips and brushed a kiss to the back of her knuckles, praying that it would help. 

“We’ll stop them, Lucy.” He whispered into her skin. “We will. _I promise_.” His heart hammered in his chest as he then added, “You won’t lose me.” 

"Flynn." She half sobbed.

He looked up sharply as Lucy pulled her hand away. Before he could wonder if he'd done something wrong or said too much in the little that he'd let slip out, Lucy scooted to the edge of her perch and leaned into his space. He fell quiet as those liquid dark eyes of hers roved over his face before her arms moved to wrap around his shoulders. Garcia shivered as her fingertips brushed gently over his back, her touch gentle as she took extra care to be cautious near his wounded side. Despite the continued warmth of her tears dampening his shirt and the awkwardness of the angle and his ability to only get one arm around her, Lucy was still there, in his arms. Nothing else mattered. 

“I’m here, Lucy.” He continued, closing his eyes as the lavender scent of her shampoo invaded his senses. Garcia tightened his grasp around her as best as he could, his eyes slowly closing as she sighed against his neck. “For _you_.” 

“I know.”


End file.
